


Between The Lines

by LerDan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean Winchester, Christmas Eve, Christmas Party, Destiel - Freeform, Editor Dean Winchester, M/M, Military Veteran Dean Winchester, New Year's Eve, Older Castiel (Supernatural), One Night Stands, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Short One Shot, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Unsafe Sex, Writer Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29682102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LerDan/pseuds/LerDan
Summary: What are the chances of you seeing an attractive stranger that you spoke to for a couple of seconds at an airport again? Well, not that high, and Dean wasn't counting on it either.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 90





	Between The Lines

**Author's Note:**

> After a year of not writing a word, I have finally managed to write this short one-shot Destiel for you all. I hope you'll like it :)
> 
> It's not beta'd or proof-read. All spelling or grammar errors are mine.

It’s a miracle for him to wake up so early in the morning. He’d never been a morning person. He loved to sleep in. But years after years of tours in Afghanistan taught him to wake up as early as he could. He never enjoyed his time in the army, but it was a legacy that he had to carry. Even when his father is 6 feet underground, Dean still felt the pressure to make his old man proud. Not that he was, by any means of the world. He just… had to do it.

His father’s death was never something that he could remember fondly. It broke him apart. Physically and mentally, and he never understood as to why that was, and never thought to find out. His father wasn’t a kind man. But it hit him hard. Car accident. The toughest man he has ever known in his life died from a car crash.

Dean stood up from his bed, in his small Manhattan apartment, and walked to his bathroom to get ready for the day. It wasn’t light out, not yet. It was December and it would take a bit longer for the sun to crack through the clouds. If they’d get the privilege to see her shine through. He doesn’t remember when the last time it’d been he saw the sun.

No, he wasn’t a depressed, anxiety-ridden mess. It just kept snowing. Dean sighed as he looked out the window, a travel coffee mug in his hand. It was snowing lightly, and it was going to stay that way, thankfully. He grabbed his duffel bag, checked everything in his apartment one last time, and left it. His car was parked in the building’s parking lot. Dean felt fortunate to find this apartment in such a place. Thankful that he managed to save up for years from his military pay, which wasn’t much, to begin with. And then there were the trust funds, and his parents’ death, he managed to buy this small apartment. He bought it from a friend of a friend who was moving out of the States. It wasn’t cheap, but, he managed. He got himself a job, made some investments, and he was good.

He wasn’t loaded. No, he wasn’t anything. He just got lucky.

He dropped his bag in the backseat of his Mazda. Got in and then drove to JFK. The streets weren’t crazy as it usually was around this time, which surprised him, but he wasn’t complaining.

The airport was busy though, which gave him moments of anxiety, but it was alright. He was okay.

He was okay.

Dean went through the process of ticket check, ID, baggage, and in no time, he was sitting and waiting for the announcement for his flight. He played some mellow music from his phone to relax him. The noises were becoming too much for him so early in the morning. He drained the last of his coffee, and closed his eyes, immersing himself in whatever Spotify decided to give him for the day. It was relaxing and soft. He loved it.

A man sat down next to him. Dean couldn’t hear him, but a quick look at the man on his left made him understand that the man was muttering to himself about something. He probably spilled his coffee in his haste, because he was shaking some papers around. Droplets of the said coffee pitter-pattered around, and some landed on Dean and his phone. The man turned his face to look at Dean; wide blue-eyes stared into, well, his soul. Literally. Apologetic, gentle, piercing blue eyes, to be more specific. The round-shaped mouth was forming words, that Dean couldn’t hear for the life of him. Stubble around the face, hair in disarray.

Dean took out his headphones.

“-truly, sorry. I’m never this messy. I just- it’s this morning. That’s all.” The stranger’s voice was deep.

“You’re fine,” Dean said and smiled at him. “Happens to all of us. Here,” Dean shifted and from the back of his pocket he took out a pack of napkins. The stranger took it from him, with a nod and a thank you, and he started to dab dry his papers, and the bag next to him.

Dean just wiped his phone screen, and with a cough, he put his headphones back in, to continue ignoring everything around him. A minute later he felt movement next to him, and the man stood up and went with an attendee to the airport.

He boarded the plane about 30 minutes later, and the plane ride was quiet for him. Thankfully the seats had TVs, so he managed to watch a movie or two. The only interruptions he received were when he got the complimentary whiskey and some food. It wasn’t the longest flight for him, and it wasn’t the shortest. So he wasn’t tired when his brother Sam threw himself at him and hugged him super tight.

“Hiya, Sammy,” Dean said gruffly and hugged him right back. It hasn’t been that long since they last saw each other, and there were the occasional video calls, but he realized that he had missed his brother terribly.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam said. They pulled back and Dean took a careful look at his brother. He still couldn’t believe that he managed to hit the growth spurt in his puberty so hard, that Sam was now at least a head taller than him. They used to make fun of each other about this. And it never really died down, but it was something that they used to do.

“Where’s Eileen?” he asked.

“She’s…” Sam looked around him, “right there.”

“Dean!” He hugged her tight. She loved his sister-in-law so much. He was amazed how a woman like her could end up with someone like sloppy-Sammy, but here they were.

“Hey, gorgeous,” He kissed her cheek and pulled back to look at her. She was beautiful, and he’d always tell her that.

And he would always remind her that he was the better-looking brother. And Eileen would laugh at him, and tell him, “Thank you, but I like them tall.”

Dean clutched at his chest, falling backward slightly dramatically, and groaned, “You wound me.”

They were at Sam’s house now. They were nice enough to give him the guest bedroom to sleep in for the week. There wasn’t much in there. Just a bed, nightstand, and a wardrobe. But it was cozy.

Eileen was cooking something by the stove, while Dean and Sam sat by the counter and chatted a bit.

“How is work treating you? Do you like it?”

“It can be boring sometimes, with editing and such, but it’s interesting to read books before everyone else and keeping it secret,” Dean said, drinking from his tea. For years, he would drink alcohol whenever he could, because that’s what he knew. Since he came back, he drunk only socially. Which was good.

“That sounds so cool, though.”

“It does,” Sam opened his mouth to ask what Dean already knew, but Dean cut him off. “And no, you can’t know what or whose books I’m working on right now.”

“He is not wrong, love,” Eileen said from her spot.

“Thank you! See, even Eileen knows. And you’re a lawyer too.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine,” Sam said with a chuckle and an eye roll. “I’ll just wait then.”

“Good boy.”

A couple of days later, Sam and Eileen’s place was packed. They were having a pre-Christmas party with their friends. Dean knew of this, but sometimes a lot of people at one place, at once, was too much for him. But it didn’t stop him from socializing with people. It was nice to talk to his brother’s friends. Even though some of them were too uptight and too lawyer-ish, they were still cool people.

“Hey, Abby,” he received kisses and hugs from her.

“Hi, love. I haven’t seen you for… how long has it been?”

“God, I don’t even know. Wasn’t it a July 4th thing-?”

“Oh yeah! I completely forgot about it,” she said.

“You look… not stressed,” Dean said, laughing.

“I do. I broke up from him.”

“You did? That’s good. You deserve better.”

They continued talking until there was a squeak from the doorway, and Dean looked in the direction. Eileen was hugging someone that Dean didn’t recognize. Until they pulled apart and he could see the face. It was the man from the airport that spilled his coffee everywhere. Dean was completely distracted by the man. It wasn’t because he was an attractive man, but because he was the opposite of what he saw at the airport. He wasn’t clumsy or in disarray. He was so well put together that Dean didn’t realize it was the same man.

“I can’t believe you are here!” Eileen was saying to him. Her voice would get thicker whenever she’d get excited, so Dean assumed that he was someone she knew of. She signed something to him and he signed right back and Eileen hugged him again.

Dean went back to talking to Abby, but he wasn’t in the conversation anymore. He excused himself from them and took a trip to the bathroom. He splashed some cold water on his face and left the bathroom. He made a beeline to where Sam was, talking to his friend from the office. So Dean tried to make small talk with them, but he was quickly lost because they were talking about something that he had no interest in.

He made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a coke. He didn’t want to get drunk too fast tonight, so he slowed it down a bit. The beer could wait. Soon, he wasn’t alone in there.

“Hey,” Dean said as the blue-eyed stranger,- not so stranger?- came to the kitchen for a snack.

“Oh, hello,” he seemed surprised to see Dean here. “I think I know you from somewhere.”

Dean nodded, “Yeah. I’m the guy you sort of splashed your coffee on.”

There was a slight recognition on his face, “Oh! At the airport, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded chuckling.

“Did I apologize? I’m sorry if I haven’t.”

“No, yeah, you have. It’s all good. It wasn’t that bad anyway.”

“Still, it was rude.”

“If you insist,” Dean replied with a slight curl of his lips.

“So, ah, it seems that we have a mutual friend? Or, friends?” the man said, grabbing the wine from the cooler.

“I’m Sammy’s brother. Dean,” he extended his hand over to the man.

“I’m Castiel,” the man, Castiel, said, accepting the hand. “Eileen’s brother.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“Wow. How come I haven’t seen you at the wedding?” Dean said, leaning against the counter.

“I was traveling the world. So I couldn’t come to the wedding.”

“Oh,” Dean said, nodding. “I’m sorry about that.”

Castiel shrugged but nodded. “Yeah, me too. But I get them a big gift so I guess I’m forgiven.”

Dean laughed and took a sip from his coke. “Nothing like a good gift for your siblings.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Castiel replied as he took a sip of his wine. His eyes never really left Dean’s throughout this conversation. Maybe it was the softness of the light in the kitchen, or maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the moment, but Dean felt that pull in his lower region.

He didn’t have an active sex life, but he knew when he wanted to have a one-night stand with an attractive person. It was weird. It wasn’t as if they were having a sexual conversation, but they continued to talk to each other for the rest of the night, laughing and toasting, and what have you. It was a good night.

They ended up exchanging phone numbers. Dean found out that Castiel was living in Manhattan, too, and they agreed to get coffee together one day.

Dean was back home after Christmas Eve. He was behind so much on his job that he didn’t leave his apartment for days. It was New Year’s Eve. He didn’t have any plans for the night. Most of his friends were out of town anyway, visiting their families. So he was home, with a half bottle of wine that he was slowly killing from weeks ago, and his laptop open in front of him. It was snowing outside again. He was wearing sweatpants, and fluffy socks, and a white sweater. His apartment was warm, but he loved feeling the softness of the fabric on his skin.

His phone dinged with a message, but he ignored it. He was almost done with this editing anyway. A couple of hours later he was done, and he sent the finished book to his team. He knew they were going to get it in a couple of days, but he was at least done for the day.

Dean washed his glass and dried it. He threw out the now empty bottle of wine and then he checked his phone. It was a message from Castiel.

**Castiel**

_Hello, Dean._

The message was sent to him in the afternoon, now it was almost 6:45 pm. He shot back a text.

**Dean**

_Hey, dude. Sorry about the late response. I was working._

He took out some leftover Chinese food from his fridge and sniffed. It was still good to eat. He heated some of it and munched on a cold eggroll until his food heated. His phone dinged again.

**Castiel**

_There is this NYE party tonight downtown. I thought you might want to join._

_If you are busy with your friends, I understand._

Dean looked at the messages but didn’t respond. He sat by the counter and started to eat. He thought about what he was going to do tonight. Stay home, watch _Star Wars_ , fall asleep on the couch while watching _Star Wars,_ wake up past midnight and move his ass to bed. Just like last year, and the year before that. He chewed his food and looked at the messages on his screen.

**Dean**

_Sure. But I can’t stay long._

He finished his food off and went to his drawers where he kept his clothes. He rummaged through them and took out a pair of jeans, and another soft-knitted sweater. This was a gift to him from Eileen last year. It was soft. He got ready and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and do his hair. He had a short-beard thing going on, and thought for a moment to shave it off, but thought against it. He wanted to get a full beard soon. He shaped his hair, and while he was doing that his phone dinged again.

Dean went to get his phone from the kitchen and checked the messages. It was Castiel again, giving him the address to the bar and the time for the party. It was 3 blocks away from his place, so Dean just sent him a thumbs-up and finished getting ready.

A couple of hours later, because he got an e-mail from one of his co-workers telling him to re-check a chapter quickly again, Dean was finally making his way through the doors’ of the bar. It was packed, but not in a claustrophobic way. He took out his jacket and draped it over his arm, and tried to spot the familiar head, but he couldn’t find him yet. The safest thing to do right now, to not look like an outsider, was to make his way to the bar and order him a drink.

Drink by his elbow, and jacket over his thigh, Dean continued to scan the bar for Castiel. There, all the way in the back, sitting between two other very colorful individuals was Castiel. He was talking to someone, and he was laughing. Dean grabbed his glass of whiskey and made his way to where Castiel was sitting at.

“Hey,” he said, and Castiel’s head snapped up at him.

“Dean, I’m glad you could make it. Here,” the people around the table shuffled around a bit and there was a free chair right next to Castiel. “What are you having?”

“Uh, whiskey,” Dean said as he sat down. He draped his jacket over his chair and looked at Castiel.

“Good. Me too,” Castiel said, smiling. “Everyone this is Dean. Dean, this is, well, everyone.”

Castiel’s friends were extremely friendly to him. A stranger and they were acting as if they knew him for years. It was nice. He found out that most of them were artists, and photographers, and background Broadway actors, and actresses, and writers.

“You’re a writer?” asked Dean, surprised. Turning to ask this of Castiel, while the others started to talk in between them. “Do I know anything you’ve written?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Castiel said, fingers running at the mouth of his glass. His cheeks were rosy pink from how hot it was inside the bar, or it could’ve been the alcohol. Dean didn’t know, but he looked more attractive if it was possible. Castiel was wearing a button-down, navy-colored shirt, with jeans that looked tight and comfortable on him. He had the arms of his shirt rolled up, and the first two buttons unbuttoned. “What have you read?”

“Well, a lot of books. It’s part of my job.”

“Are you a journalist for _New York Times_?” Castiel asked, looking at him.

“No,” Dean said with a head shake. “No. I’m an editor.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. So I have read every genre, I think. Unless they come up with something new in the next minute, anyway.”

“That’s interesting,” Castiel said. “I’m pretty sure it’s hard to keep everything a secret until the publishing of the said book.”

“It was at first, yeah,” Dean replied. “But as the days went by, it started to get easier. Here’s the thing though, it’s not much of a secret, if you know who you want to talk to about these things.”

“Co-workers and the author,” Castiel assumed.

“Exactly. Well, not much with the author, but the co-worker part is accurate.”

“Hmm… Interesting. I wouldn’t dare ask what are you working on.”

“Nope. I have an NDA contract with this one. It’s this most anticipated book of the year, people are calling it that anyway.”

“Is it interesting?”

“Extremely. I understood why it was when I started reading the first draft.”

“That must’ve been intense.”

“It was,” Dean said, nodding. “But once I read the whole thing, and started editing, and leaving comments, and just basically turning the whole thing upside down, it wasn’t as intense as the first time.”

There was a silence between them, interrupted by Castiel’s friends talking about an art show they saw a week ago. Dean ordered another whiskey, and Castiel followed suit. They drunk their whiskeys and listened to the chatter around them and then Dean remembered.

“You never told me.”

“Hm?”

“You never told me what genre you write.”

“Oh, right. Well, usually fantasy novels,” he said. “I finished writing one recently. I’m waiting for the last email from my editing team soon.”

“That’s great. What’s your pen-name though? Or do you go with Castiel?”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard of me, but my pen-name is C.J. Novak?”

Dean swirled around in his seat and looked at Castiel with his mouth dropped open in surprise. “ _C. J. Novak?_ Holly- are you serious?”

“Uhm, yeah?” his cheeks flaming a bit more if it was possible.

“Dude, I just finished editing your book.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Just before I came here. That’s why I came in late. I had to work on something before I sent it to my team. But holy shit. This is so cool!”

“Well, always a pleasure to meet a fan.”

“You should be. Your writing is so good. I’m mind-blown by it.”

“Okay, a bit more of praise and it will be impossible to deflate this guy,” said one of Castiel’s friends to his right, and they all laughed. Castiel joined their laugh, but Dean couldn’t take his eyes off of Castiel.

What were the chances of him meeting the man who has written so many amazing books that the whole world was reading? And were, understandably, obsessed with them. He started reading them first when he was in the army, and the nights were long and dreary, and very hot. His comfort had been reading these books. And now he was sitting, and having a drink with the man who kept him from losing it all.

Essentially, Dean wanted to spend an hour or so here, and go back home to do what he originally planned on doing. But he soon found out that he was having a good time. He learned some more about Castiel; he loved traveling. He had been in Bulgaria twice, and Italy 4 times. He preferred classical music, over jazz, even though the bar they were at was playing jazz. He was much older than Eileen. When Dean found out that Castiel was in his 50’s, Dean made a mental note of their age-differences. He was going to be 37 in March. As much as Dean pushed him to know how old he was, Castiel adamantly stayed with, “I’m in my 50’s, Dean. That’s all you need to know.”

“Grandpa,” Dean muttered, finishing his drink. Castiel only laughed at him.

An hour later, they left the bar. Castiel’s friends wanted to head to Time’s Square for the ball drop, while Dean, knowing how he was going to react to the sounds, opted out of joining them.

“Well, uh, wait for me, hang on,” Castiel said. He bid his friends a good night and a Happy New Year before he joined Dean.

“Why didn’t you go with them?” asked Dean, as they started walking in Dean’s apartment’s direction.

“I don’t like loud crowds. Friends of groups, yeah. But not the Time’s Square kind.”

“Understood.”

“What about you?”

“Ah,” Dean said with a laugh. He watched the fog leave his mouth on an exhale and sniffed. It was cold, and it was starting to snow again. The roads were a bit slushy, but thankfully, some of the owners of the stores on the street managed to clean the walkway. “I don’t know if you know much about me, but I have served a couple of years back.”

“Oh,” Castiel nodded. And gave him a look. There was a look on his face, that Dean hasn’t seen on anyone. Understanding, respect, and something else, that he couldn’t put his finger on. Yeah, people did thank him for his service all the time. But it would sound bland and not genuine. He has heard the phrase so many times when people found out about him, that he could hear the differences between the words and the expression. “I guess I should thank you for your service?”

“If you want. I don’t… I don’t think I should be thanked. I was just doing what I had to do.”

“Either way, I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“That sounds….”

“Heartless? Blunt?”

“Real,” Dean said, stopping by the red light. They were almost by his apartment building. He shared a look with Castiel for a moment, before they crossed the street again. They continued their way down the street and soon Dean was slowing down because they had reached his building. “Well, this is me.”

“Ah,” Castiel said. “I didn’t realize we were walking this way to your apartment.”

“Yeah, figured we’ll get here so I can ask if you’d like to come upstairs for a wine. I think I have some left.”

“Not a big fan of wine,” Castiel said, shaking his head slightly.

“Hm, I’m not either. I do have whiskey, I think.”

“Hm,” Castiel looked up at the building and then back at Dean. He didn’t know what Castiel was looking for in his face, but whatever he found, made him smile. “Sure. Let’s go.”

Once inside his apartment, Dean hung his jacket by the door and took off his shoes and socks. Castiel followed suit. Dean let Castiel explore his small studio apartment, and went to look for the whiskey he knew he was hiding in one of the upper cupboards.

“I would offer to cook something for you, but it’s too late in the night for dinner.”

“Maybe some other day,” Castiel said, as he sat down on the stool by the counter.

“Definitely,” Dean said as he unscrewed the whiskey and poured some for them both. Castiel grabbed him and sniffed.

“Nice,” he said. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

They clinked their glasses together and stared at one another. Dean wasn’t sitting. He was at the opposite side of the counter, by the stove. His apartment was small, yes, but it was comfortable. He had a counter-bar that split his living room and kitchen in two. Next to where his living room there was a full-sized bed with side-tables. And that side of the studio was split with a bookshelf. His bathroom was next to the kitchen. It was small, with only a showerhead, and his toilet next to it, but he liked it. It was cozy.

Dean didn’t have a lot of people coming over to his place. And the only ones he did allow to come over were usually people he dated or knew from somewhere. But one-night stands, or new people he didn’t know; never. So this was a first. And he didn’t know how he felt about it.

He stored that thought for later. Right now, he was leaning forward, just as Castiel hoisted himself up a bit and leaned over the counter to kiss Dean on the lips. Dean returned the kiss. Surprised, sure. Since he didn’t know it was going to happen so soon and so fast, but he returned the kiss nevertheless. Castiel’s lips looked chapped, but they were soft and plum and Dean lifted his hands to his face and ran his fingers over the light stubble that Castiel had. Dean moved his head to the side and deepened the kiss, while Castiel kept pulling him closer by his shirt. They both moved the glasses to the side, surprisingly without breaking anything, and Dean went over the counter and sat on it, by Castiel’s side. He wrapped his legs around Castiel’s waist and pulled him in closer, without breaking their kiss. Castiel places both of his hands on Dean’s thighs and squeezed them tight and sure.

Dean’s body shook from it.

Their lips moved together in sync. Castiel took and took, but he was a giver too. He kept biting, and pulling, but letting Dean take his time too. Dean’s hands moved up Castiel’s body and to his face, clutching at it, and pulling him closer still. Their bodies were slotted together, but Dean wanted more. He spread his legs wider, jutting his hips up a bit, and, thankfully, Castiel moved his hands up from his thighs and worked open his jeans. Hands going under his underwear, Dean pulled his mouth away from Castiel’s and let out an audible gasp. Castiel worked his dick in his hand and moved his kisses down Dean’s neck. Licking and kissing and sucking, Dean was a hot mess. He was sweating under his sweater, and it was becoming a tight fit in his jeans.

Castiel moved back a bit, his hand leaving his jeans, helped him out of his sweater and undershirt. He took a moment to look at Dean’s chest before he moved and licked and sucked in Dean’s nub. Dean moaned, unashamedly, out loud and closed his eyes, feeling the erotic sensation moving in his body, under his skin. Castiel moved down his body and kissed his skin, and helped him out of his jeans fully. Dean was leveraging himself on one foot, to try and get it off his legs, when Castiel dipped down and swallowed Dean to the base. Dean held on to the counter for dear life as Castiel bobbed his head up and down his length, his tongue working around Dean as well. He didn’t know what Castiel was doing exactly, because his brain had one single line of thought right now, but whatever he was doing with his mouth and tongue, worked perfectly for Dean.

Castiel pulled back enough to help Dean up the counter again before he took him back in his mouth to suck on him even more enthusiastically. Dean knew how loud he could get, and how many of his last partners have told him he was _embarrassingly_ loud about his emotions, but Castiel surprised him.

He heard the wet pop Castiel’s mouth made when he released Dean _again_ and stood up fully. Dean pried his eyes open and looked at Castiel. His lips were red and wet, his cheeks flaming, his hair a mess from Dean’s fingers, but his eyes were dark, a blue ring around them, full of lust, and piercing as they looked into Dean’s eyes. “Don’t hold back,” Castiel whispered to him, gruffly. His voice had gone lower if it were possible. And Dean shuddered as he heard him speak.

“O-okay,” Dean nodded, his voice shaking.

“If you don’t like anything I do, please let me know,” Castiel said as his finger wrapped around Dean’s hardened dick and gave it a tag. A pre-cum left the tip of his erection.

Dean whimpered and said, “Yeah. I will.”

“Good,” Castiel said, as he moved his hands down Dean’s balls and behind them where he found Dean’s hole.

“Fuck,” Dean whispered as he felt Castiel’s finger there.

“Yeah, I know,” Castiel whispered. Castiel dipped down and kissed Dean’s exposed neck. Sucking on a pulse point, he tried to work his finger in, but Dean was clenching a bit. “Hmmm…” Castiel growled against his neck. “Lube?”

“Uh, yeah,” Castiel moved back and Dean jumped off the counter, nearly tripping over his haste to get to the bedside table to get the lube. Castiel was staying in the same spot, still dressed up, but Dean would see the shape of him, and how hard he was. And by Dean’s measurements, he looked like he was packing, but he had been known to be wrong about things.

He jumped back on the counter and spread his legs again. “Aren’t you overdressed?” He asked as he moved his hands down Castiel’s body and under his shirt.

Castiel was going to stop his hands from exploring even more. He moved his head to his earlobe bit down on it and growled, “Patience.” And suddenly, Dean didn’t care about anything at all. There was a ringing in his ears and he was filled with lust once more.

He heard and then felt the lube around his hole. It was glorious when he felt that one finger inside his bum and then followed by another. Dean jutted his hips up a bit more and spread his legs wider. Castiel pulled him over the counter, and Dean laid down on it. Castiel threw his legs over his shoulders and twisted his fingers and Dean saw stars. His dick was hard and red, and wet. There was a steady stream of pre-cum coming out of its tip and down on his chest. He couldn’t stop moaning loudly, mewling as he felt the fingers moving inside of him. He was clawing at Castiel’s hand that was on his thigh. “I-I n-need… more. Pleeease,” he couldn’t think. He wanted more. He wanted this man’s dick in his ass.

Castiel chuckled, his voice gruff, and full of lust. Dean didn’t realize he was saying words out loud. And then he felt empty, but not cold. Castiel had moved back and he was getting himself out of his jeans, and two seconds later, there was the blunt force of Castiel’s dick on his opening, and Dean sat up on his elbows.

His eyes hooded, mouth dropping open on a hitched breath, he looked into Castiel’s eyes and saw the crazed look in them. He moved slowly at first, getting his dick inside slowly. “You’re so big,” Dean whispered, his voice desperate. He didn’t care that he sounded wanton. He didn’t care.

“Thank you,” Castiel said, with a prideful smile.

Dean didn’t have it in him to tell him to fuck off before Castiel pulled out a bit and then slammed into him again. Dean closed his eyes and dropped down on the counter once more as Castiel moved his hips with enthusiasm now. His hands were clutching at Dean’s hips, hard. And Dean knew that he was going to get reddened bruising there come tomorrow, but he didn’t care. Castiel was rearranging his organs and making his vocal cords give out with the way he was making all of these noises. It was probably the best way he could’ve been fucked tonight, on New Year’s.

Since he came back from his tours, he’d tried dating, tried one-night stands, but they all felt so bland and empty. He was feeling very much filled upright and he couldn’t stop moaning and gasping and mewling and crying out. Castiel knew what he was doing, and Dean loved every second of it.

Castiel didn’t grab Dean’s dick in his hand. No, he moved his point and middle finger up and down his length, resting against his belly, in the same rhythm as his hip movement. He was going to come like this.

“I’m gonna… I’m g- I-cum… I’m-” he couldn’t form words.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Castiel was panting. Dean’s ears were attuned to Castiel’s voice. He wasn’t paying attention until now. The man was growling, and he was saying things, and he was moaning, and he was calling him things that Dean couldn’t understand because he was coming. He broke apart, his head was thrown back, mouth wide open, a loud moan, and a half-scream leaving his mouth as he came all over him.

He felt Castiel’s release inside of him and knew that Castiel just finished inside of him. He had 5 seconds of panic, in his hazed mind, but he stopped caring, the minute he realized that Castiel was still fucking him through his release. He was making these small noises at the back of his throat, and Dean couldn’t open his eyes, but he knew that someday he’d want to see Castiel’s face.

There’s him, and Dean opened his eyes to look as Castiel moved out of him, his body shuddering from the sensation. Castiel took a deep breath and looked at Dean. He looked down his body and up, and then gave him a self-satisfied smile. Dean couldn’t help but return it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave a review!


End file.
